


Memory Loss

by pipisafoat



Category: NCIS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-28
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipisafoat/pseuds/pipisafoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was sure he remembered less than he was letting on, but there was no way he was going to admit it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memory Loss

For the first couple of weeks after he came back from Mexico, Jethro had relied on me to fill the holes still in his memory. He had asked any time he needed to know anything, sending a quick email if there were other people in the squad room. At first, I had been quick to answer, more than happy to bring the boss back up to speed. After a while, though, I think he started noticing my worry when I answered, because he cut down on the questions. It seemed like he only asked if there's no way around it, nowhere to find out for himself, and no way to ignore that information.

I was sure he remembered less than he was letting on, but there was no way he was going to admit it. I would have to trick him into it, but even I wasn't stupid enough to try that at work. No, if he's proven human, it'll be in the privacy of his home, in the company of the one person who already knows it, no matter how it may look at work. The only question was how. So last night, when I caught him looking in our toy drawer with a slightly confused look on his face, I finally knew exactly how to snare him.

"Whatcha looking for, babe?"

He shrugged. "Lube's almost out."

"Oh, crap. I'll have to get more tomorrow; I'm pretty sure that was the last bottle," I tell him, wrapping my arms around him. "You sure there's not another reason you were in here? Looking for something extra tonight? Your pick."

He poked around in the drawer before looking up at me. "Nah, your choice. I had last night."

I laughed. "We both had last night. What about this one, though?" I pick up the newest dildo and offer it to him. "You know how long I've been wanting to fuck you with this one."

He nodded, but I could see the confusion on his face for a brief minute. "I guess it's about time, then," he replied.

"Jethro." I took the toy from his hand and put it on the bed. "Do you remember when we got that one?"

"Do you? Jesus, Tony, you remember when you got your first sex toy, maybe your first of each new thing, but are you really supposed to remember every one?"

I sighed. "No, I don't remember when _we_ got that one, but I do remember when _I_ got it, while _you_ were gone." He froze, stiffened in my arms, and looked away from me. "Jethro, it's okay that you still don't remember everything. Hiding from it and pretending isn't going to do you any good. If you don't want to ask me, then for fuck's sake, ask someone else! Talk to Ducky. Maybe he can help. I don't know."

"Tony--"

"No. I'm going to worry, I can't help it. That's what happens when one person loves another. I just wanted you to know that I know and that it's okay. It's no big deal. Now do I get to fuck you with this or not?"

He pulled away just enough to be able to stare at me. "That's it? Tear me apart, tell me how fucked up I am, and then fuck me with a piece of plastic? At least use your own dick, DiNozzo."

"If that's what you want, you can have it," I said, trying to figure out when it went wrong. "Jethro, please. I'm not trying to start a fight. I just want to help you, but if you won't let me answer questions, at least let me love you, however you want."

I felt the change in him more than I saw it. "Well, if you're going to do me, get to it," he growled, now more angry at himself than me. "I've got to sleep at some point tonight if I'm going in early tomorrow."

"You'll talk to Ducky?"

He sighed. "If I get enough done."

"You'll talk to Ducky." I grinned and kissed him. "Now come on, the mattress is calling."

* * *

  
I can tell he's thinking about last night as he drives us in to work this morning. He's opened his mouth to say something a couple times, but he always shuts it. He does it one more time, and I can't keep my own shut any longer.

"Look, if you don't want to talk to him, I'm not going to make you."

He laughs. "Not quite what I was thinking about."

"Oh." I blink. "Well, it's still true, but what were you thinking about?"

He smirks at me. "That new dildo. Why'd you need another one?"

I look out the window. "You were gone. None of them felt like you."

"So... you want to fuck me with, what, a plastic version of me? That's a little strange, Tony." He squeezes my shoulder gently, and I put my hand on top of his.

"You always said you wondered what made it so good for me," I tell the window softly. "All I could say before was that I'd never felt anything like you, but now..." I trail off, shrugging, even as I feel my face get hot.

He squeezes my shoulder again. "Alright." He's silent for a few minutes before asking one more question. "None of them felt like me?"

"I missed you," I say simply. "I slept here as often as I thought I could get away with. I cried the day I realized the pillows didn't smell like you anymore. And then when you came back for Ziva..."

"I'm sorry," he interrupts. "I'm sorry I didn't remember us sooner. And I'm sorry I didn't come back when I did. I just--"

"I know." I turn my head and kiss his hand softly. "I'll probably hold it against you the next time we fight, but really, I just want you to be happy, and that's why I want you to remember so badly."

He's quiet, but for the first time since he stopped asking questions, it's a relaxing silence, the kind you don't try to forget.


End file.
